Puppets and Strings
by Bronwyn O'Reilly
Summary: AU – There's trouble afoot in London. A private detective meets a talented young Healer, a new series of blood-status laws are passed, and a secret puppeteer commands almost all the city. When James Potter said he wanted to fry bigger fish, this was not what he meant. Canonical pairings.
1. Like Clockwork

**Chapter One: Like Clockwork**

It was a hot day in the middle of summer, and the sun poured in through the windows of the spacious flat with reckless abandon. Said windows were open, letting in what was meant to be a cool breeze but was really more of a hot wheeze, and a man with messy black hair currently lay with his eyes shut on the sofa. The fan in the corner whirred away, compensating for the lack of fresh air.

James Potter was a brilliant individual. He had a knack for identifying patterns of all sorts and connecting dots, which had been the main motivation behind his choice of profession – private detective. He was where people came to if they felt that the Ministry would be unable to help them, or if the laws were against them but justice still needed to be served. His cases tended towards the mundane, but Wizards were rarely comfortable with going to someone non-magical, especially when that someone was _paid _to be observant.

"Oi, James, you home?" came a call from the direction of the windows. James opened his eyes and looked up to see a head of dark hair and bright eyes poking up from the bottom of the window frame. A certain someone had decided that rather than climb the stairs up the six or so storeys like a normal human being, it would be a better idea to climb up the side of the building.

He leapt up and strode over, sticking his own head out to get a face full of one Sirius Black. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Climbing," said Sirius helpfully. James looked down and noticed two hands gripping the edge of the windowsill tightly, although none of the strain showed on Sirius' features. With a sigh, James extended a hand and grasped Sirius' forearm, pulling him up and over the window.

"Did you have to?"

"Yeah, there were some really irritating old women in front of me in the lift and the stairs were blocked. Do you know how annoying that is?" Sirius dusted himself off and flicked a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. James couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his friend's choice of clothing. Somehow Sirius had gotten hold of a leather motorcycle jacket and matching boots, which was probably why the old women hadn't been completely open to Sirius' presence.

"Someone exploded a toilet on the fifth floor, that's why the stairs are closed," James explained. He meandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge with a little frown. "Dunno what he was doing, but I bet it was something illegal. Ginger pop?"

"Ta," Sirius said, catching the bottle effortlessly and popping it open with his teeth. If there was one thing James envied about his best friend, it was his teeth. They were quite possibly the strongest thing in the history of the universe.

"What do you want?" James asked, dropping down on the floor in front of the sofa and opening his own bottle with a bottle opener. "I thought you were off in…Egypt? Morocco? Where was it?"

"Mexico, actually, but you got the right hemisphere." Sirius took a swig of the ginger beer and let out a contented sigh. "Turns out the tomb was completely ransacked in the something-th century. By the Conquistadors, you know? So I came back, turned in the report, and realised that I had a week of nothing doing, thought I'd come and bug you."

"What's Mexico like?"

"Hot. Dry. Boring."

James leaned back and tipped his head to stare at the ceiling. "Didn't bring me back a souvenir?"

"Merlin, no. Nothing but key-chains and illegal drugs." Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "Was tempted, though. Some of them were hilarious. Been doing anything lately?"

James grinned. Sirius had a stupidly fast train of thought and could change a conversation almost immediately after it had set off on a tangent. "No, it's been quite lately. Landlady came over for the rent last week, couldn't believe that I could still pay it."

"Helps having your parents supporting you still, doesn't it?"

James shot a look at Sirius. "Yeah, I suppose. Mum's getting older, though. I go round every Sunday for lunch now."

"Is she alright?" the other man asked worriedly. "She's not ill or anything, is she?"

"No, she's fine. Just old." James took another sip. "You want to go grab something for lunch? There's a new fish and chip shop open just down the road, opened last week. It's pretty decent, actually. They don't do their fish really heavily."

Sirius nodded, but didn't move. "Don't you have to mind the agency today?"

"Nah, Friday's are my designated 'off day'." James didn't move either. Lunch could wait, he was comfortable. "Would've taken Saturdays, but that's when a lot of my clients come in. Something about it being inconspicuous to go out on a Saturday."

"Obscurity in a crowd," said Sirius, nodding wisely and stroking an imaginary beard. "Good thinking, that. When was your last case?"

James thought back and crinkled his nose. "Two and a half weeks ago, I think. Maybe three. Woman wanted to know if her husband was bringing back illegal dark artefacts. He wasn't, of course, but it paid."

"Who was it? Or is that client confidentiality?"

"Client confidentiality, sorry mate. I can tell you if you have a valid reason, and no, curiousity doesn't count."

Sirius shrugged and balanced his bottle on his head. "It is what it is. Did anything interesting happen?"

"Not really. Got bitten by a teacup. I'm pretty sure that counts as Improper Use of Magic, but I really couldn't be bothered to go all the way to the Ministry and fill out the forms for it. Waste of time."

"That has got to be the stupidest excuse for a department. They really need someone in there to get rid of the paperwork. No one's going to report anything if it takes a week just to get the forms."

James laughed and plucked Sirius' bottle off his head, whacking him in the side of the head accidentally. "Come on, let's go get some lunch. Who knows, maybe someone will recognise the great detective James Potter and offer me a case."

Sirius snorted. "Doubt it. Not when I'm eating with you. Come on, in this jacket and those shoes we look like a gay couple."

"There're worse things to resemble. Hurry up, I'm hungry."

The fish and chip shop was barely a five minute walk away from James' flat, which James just knew was going to make him put on weight at an enormous rate. There was also a chocolate shop and a bookstore in the same line of shops, which James frequented often, the chocolatier more so. It was a nice area, mostly made up of older folks and college students. An odd mix, but somehow it worked.

He ordered for the both of them and took their food, dropping down into the plastic chairs and passing Sirius his food. "Here you are. Heart disease on a plate."

"I can already feel my arteries clogging," he said with a grin. "Pass the salt."

Sirius was a notoriously slow eater, so James polished his off first and smirked at the ceiling. "So, Sirius, me old mate, my good chap, I heard you had something going on with a Mary McKinnon."

"It's Marlene, and you heard wrong," he corrected. "She and I were paired for an assignment for Gringotts and that was that. It ended, we parted ways, someone spread a rumour."

"Sounds a little defensive there."

"James…"

James raised his hands in the universal gesture for peace. "Hey, hey, I'm just saying. Nothing going on then. Nothing at all. No romantic feelings whatsoever. No, sir, nothing doing. Not a – "

Sirius rolled his eyes and stuffed a chip into James' mouth to shut him up. "Yeah, yeah, we get it. Nothing. At. All."

"Good."

"Fine."

"Great."

"Yeah."

"Not that it would have been a bad thing…"

"Shut up, you."

"It's James. J – A – M – E – S. Not You. You is not my name. My name is not - "

"Yes, whatever, shut up. Not got a girl yet either, I take it?"

James snorted. "No, of course not."

"You're such an old romantic," Sirius said with an amused grin. "Waiting patiently for Miss Right. When was the last time you went on a date?"

"Now it's your turn to shut up."

"I can do that."

"Brilliant."

"Fine."

"Great."

"Good."

"…"

"…"

"We just ran a full circle, didn't we?"

"Yep."

"…sod that."

James leaned forward on his elbows and peered at his friend. "You've got a bit of salt just…here," he said, gesturing towards Sirius' entire body.

"I need that salt like I need my motorbike."

"Where is that old horror, anyway?"

"Who, the motorbike?" Sirius looked a bit affronted, probably at having his precious baby called an old horror. "She's parked outside your building, of course. Couldn't leave her out for the wolves, could I?"

"Do you know how fast it's going to get stolen?"

"Don't worry, I put a charm on her. She's not going anywhere."

James shook head his head and laughed again. "You're like a mother hen towards that filthy old thing, you know."

"You just don't appreciate art," he replied loftily, finishing off the rest of his fish with a satisfied chomp. "It's alright," he continued, this time sympathetically. "I can understand. Some things just don't come to everyone."

"Prat."

"You love me for it."

"Depends on the level of prat-ness."

"I have levels?"

They continued to chat for a good hour and a half before Sirius felt that his food had digested enough to merit standing up. They dropped their wrappers in the bin and bounced the door open, walking back out into the summer heat. The chocolatier was looking as tempting as ever, but James felt too full to eat anything as rich.

"Ah, yes, there she is," said Sirius, pointing at the motorbike parked in front of James' building. "I don't understand how you can dislike her, she's a beauty."

"Oh, I don't mind it when you drag me off for a ride, that's fun," he defended. "I just don't get why you're so infatuated with it. I swear it's more than any girlfriend could ever be."

"No, she's just a motorbike, and as much as I love her, she's never going to replace a girl." Sirius had a rather manic twinkle in his eye, one which heralded danger in its many forms. "Hey, you want to go for a ride before I ditch you?"

James glanced at his watch and grinned back. "Hell, yeah, I've got time."

"You'll always have time." Sirius leapt on and discreetly drew his wand, dispelling whatever charm he had placed on it to keep it from being stolen. "Come on, up you get."

James hopped on and grinned like a madman when Sirius revved the engine and shot off, taking no time to slowly build up speed. James had helped him enspell the thing, and one of the useful little spells involved was the same that allowed brooms to instantly shoot off. It had needed tweaking, but James and Sirius hadn't let that stop them.

When James finally staggered off, hair messier than ever and eyes bright, the duo had managed to terrify sixteen pigeons, run over three shopping bags – one still full – and break instantly for a little old lady. It wasn't quite up to their record, but it was a decent stab at it.

"Buzz me when you get a new case, yeah?" Sirius asked, looking over his shoulder as he wheeled away.

"Yeah, sure. Why, you want to help?"

"You might need some legwork done," he replied with another trademark wicked grin, before he revved the engine again and drove off.

James shook his head and stowed his wand away in his pocket. He wasn't expecting another case in the near future, but if Sirius wanted to run around and just generally be a nuisance for 'public service', who was he to stop him?

He unlocked his flat and stepped in before freezing. Something was wrong. At first glance, everything looked right and in order, but there was something wrong. He narrowed his eyes, taking his was out again and padding around softly, examining each doorway before entering and looking every which way for signs of entry.

After a good half hour of fruitless searching through both normal and magical means he dropped down on the sofa with a loud exhalation. Something was wrong, something was out of place, but unfortunately his subconscious hadn't seen it fit to share whatever it was with his conscious.

He shut his eyes and tried to use his other senses. He couldn't hear anything different, just the rattle of the breeze on windows and the dull whirr of the fan. The air conditioner was turned off, as it had been before, so that wasn't what was wrong. The fridge was making a steady hum and there weren't any unfamiliar or out of place sounds to speak of, other than the roar of distant traffic.

Then he caught it. There was a very faint aroma of flowers, the kind that are often associated with perfume. It was very faint, mainly situated around the couch, and James knew for a fact that neither he nor Sirius wore perfume. He didn't recognise it, either, which meant that someone who he didn't know or couldn't recognise by perfume had been in his flat and had seen it fit not to alert him of their presence.

James wasn't sure what worried him more; that someone had broken into his apartment and done nothing to it, or that someone knew that Sirius was going to be there and James would suggest going out.

Someone knew what he was doing.

Therefore, someone was watching him.


	2. Petty Larceny

**Chapter Two: Petty Larceny**

The first thing James did, apart from shutting all the windows and locking himself in his room, was snatch up his cell phone and dial a familiar number. He had been taught what to do in circumstances like these by one of his father's friends, a grizzly old Inspector called Alastor Moody. Moody was old, certainly, but he was insanely paranoid and was a genius when it came to staying on top of matters.

The dial tone seemed to ring forever, and James descended into carefully controlled panic. He opened the drawer of his nightstand and took out his secret stash of chocolate, which was nearly exhausted from the case he had had three months ago. He hadn't bothered stocking up again, but in retrospect he probably should have.

"James? Something wrong?"

"Someone broke into my flat."

There was a loud screech on the other end, and James winced as he heard what sounded like a motorbike running into a hedge. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, they broke in when we were out. I think they were watching us."

"Hold on, I'll be right there. Have you rung anyone else yet? Your parents? Was anything taken? Should I phone the police? The Aurors?Do you need me to pick anything up?"

"Sirius, shut up, you're not helping. I'm fine, I'm phoning Mum and Dad after you. Nothing was taken, don't phone the police. A block of chocolate would be appreciated. Thanks." James hung up quickly and dialled the home phone number of his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Charlie and Dora Potter.

The phone rang for nearly a full 2 minutes before he heard the click that signalled it had been picked up. Poor Mrs. Potter barely had time to say a word before James was babbling off what had happened to him. He was pretty sure he was rambling – was he rambling? He wasn't rambling – but he couldn't have stopped himself even if he tried.

"I was only out for an hour or two – the door was locked, how – I don't understand – what would they want? I don't have anything in here. All my stuff's at – oh, Merlin, what if they found that – they didn't take anything. Mum, they're watching me – why were they watching me? It smells funny – they won't believe me – if I tell them will you back me up? Of course you can't, you aren't – what if they come back?"

"James, listen to me." Mrs. Potter's voice was calm and cool, her 'professional' voice that she used when talking to people who were determined to stay hysterical. "You will calm down and stay calm. Do you understand me?"

James took a few gulping breaths and nodded, then smacked himself on the side of the head for thinking she would be able to see that. "Yes."

"Good. Now, take three deep breaths."

He did so, calming the residual panic that remained. "Okay. I've done that."

"Very good. Now, I want you to start at the beginning and tell me exactly what happened. Can you do that?"

He could, so he did. When he had finished – with no rambling – he sat down on the bed and let out a long, slow exhalation. "And that's the story of how a stalker broke into my flat," he concluded lamely.

"Jamie, if you want to come home for a few days, we're happy to have you," Mrs. Potter said worriedly. "That sounds like something someone should investigate."

"I'm a detective, Mum, I can investigate it myself. I'm sure someone will have seen something, and if worse comes to worst, I can try some spell work."

"You know how dangerous those spells can be. What if they leave a mark? How will you explain it to the Muggles?"

James didn't like worrying his mother, but sometimes she could be overprotective. "Mum, it's fine. Only the landlady ever comes into my flat, and that's once a month if I don't remember to pay on time."

"I still think you should come home for a day or two. Just in case someone else decides to break in, this time to do something worse." Mrs. Potter was adamant, and James let out a little sigh and acquiesced. There was really no point in arguing with her when she had made up her mind.

"Just for two nights," he warned. "I can't keep travelling back and forth from London to home."

"Take the next two days off, you won't miss anyone you can't redirect with a sign."

James sighed. "That's not the point, Mum. I have to be there in case someone desperate comes. Two nights."

"Oh, alright." She still sounded worried, but at least he had that sorted out.

Suddenly there came another knock on the door and he jumped up, tripping on a lose end of the rug and falling forward slightly. "Mum, I have to go now, but I'll see you tonight, okay? Love you."

He hung up and shoved the phone in his back pocket, hurrying over to open the door. Sirius stood there, heavily dishevelled and covered in what looked like grease and hedge twigs.

"You got here fast," James said, holding the door open as the dark haired wizard stumbled in. "What did you do, fly?"

"Almost did. What happened? You didn't tell me, but it doesn't look like anything bad." Sirius looked around doubtfully and peered behind the door. He seemed almost disappointed, and James wouldn't put it past him to have felt eager about pursuing someone. Sirius was a daredevil in all senses of the word, a self-confessed adrenalin junkie and would probably have got a kick out of chasing a would-be thief from James' flat.

"Someone broke in, someone who knew what we were doing and co-ordinated their movements to adapt. They left no tracks, didn't steal anything, didn't even move anything from its place. I only know they were here because there was perfume around the couch, and neither of us wears flowers. Where's my chocolate?"

Sirius threw a bar of Cadbury's at him and walked over to sniff at the couch. "You're right, someone was here. Done any tracing spells?"

James shook his head, mouth full. "Don't want to contaminate anything. Non-magical evidence is faster, too."

Sirius knelt down and examined the ground minutely, running a finger along the underside of the sofa and peering around the flat. His survey lasted for approximately five minutes, in which he examined all around the sofa, analysed the entrances and exits to the flat, and did a few light spells to trace residual magic.

"It wasn't someone magical," he concluded thoughtfully, taking the empty chocolate wrapper as James licked his fingers clean. "There's no traces of actual spellwork or magical presence, other than ours."

James frowned. "So a Muggle thief did this? Damn it, I hate working ordinary cases."

"That's all you've got to say?"

"I have a lot more to say, but you don't want to hear it and I don't want to freak out."

There was a short silence, before Sirius broke it again. "I don't think you should stay here, they might try again. We don't know why they broke in in the first place, and if they didn't do what they wanted to then there's a high chance they'll take another shot."

"I'm going to stay with Mum and Dad for two nights," James said, waving it away. "Mum wanted me to stay for longer, but this needs to be looked into and I don't want the police messing around with my flat."

"You can't message the Aurors?"

"It's a Muggle crime, we aren't supposed to involve the Aurors in something non-magical. Didn't your parents ever tell you that?" James grinned. "It was one of the first things Dad ever drilled into my brain: remember whose problem is whose."

"My parents were a bit busy holding dinner parties and being slimy gits. The only lesson they ever taught me was how to impress guests, and so far that hasn't been very useful." Sirius paused and frowned, looking down at the contents of the rubbish bin with a puzzled expression.

"What?" James walked over, nudging him out of the way to stare at the contents. Two empty ginger beer bottles, the chocolate wrapper, a few crumbs left over from his breakfast and a tissue box. Nothing out of the ordinary, but then again, something must have caught Sirius' attention.

Sirius crouched down and in one smooth movement, tipped the contents of the small bin to the ground. He cleared each item up, until he had neat piles scattered across the ground, as well as far too many crumbs for James' liking. The bottles were over one side, the tissue box on another, and the chocolate wrapper was stuck back in the bin.

"Look," he said, pointing at the bottles. "There's only one cap. I popped mine with my teeth – this one has tooth marks."

"Someone stole my lid." James laughed out loud. "What the hell? Why would anyone want to steal my bottle lid? This is ridiculous."

He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more than usual. "It also means that someone could have been watching us then, to know whose lid was whose. Where were you when you opened yours?"

"I was just out of the window when you threw it at me," Sirius asked, pointing to the large window in front of the couch. "I was facing the fan, so if someone was watching through it they would have seen me in profile, which I'm sure they enjoyed."

James stuck his head out of the aforementioned window and looked around before withdrawing and shaking his head. "There're too many places that can see into the flat through here. Theoretically speaking, anyone could have seen you. It didn't help that you were climbing up the side of the building, either."

"I'm sorry." The dark haired man was sincere. "I didn't think it would trigger something like this. What're you going to do about it?"

"What I always do," said James lightly. "Investigate."

* * *

"James Potter!" Mrs. Potter whirled around, one hand on her heart and the other on her wand. "Merlin, don't you dare do that again! And Sirius, don't you encourage him!"

James swayed from side to side, giving his mother a rather woozy smile and Sirius a cuff on the back of the head. "Hi, Mum. Sorry, I didn't think you'd be gardening at five o'clock in the afternoon."

"My fault," Sirius cut in. "I apparated us both; this one was too out of it to do anything."

Mrs. Potter gave them both a concerned look before shooing them inside. "In, in. There's a jug of Pimm's on the sideboard, go get yourselves a drink."

James dropped down onto the littlest armchair and leaned back, giving out a contented sigh. He and Sirius had just done a wide sweep of the area around his apartment, trying to find the spot which gave them the best visibility into the window. It was tiring work, and involved a lot of stair climbing and, surprisingly, mathematics. He'd never thought trigonometry could come in handy.

"Oi." He opened his eyes to see Sirius offering him a glass, which he took gratefully and tossed back half.

Mrs. Potter took of her gloves and boots, then sat down opposite the two and frowned thoughtfully. "What took you boys so long to get over here? Jamie, don't tell me you're trying to look into it yourself."

"'Course he is," Sirius said. "Can't let the Aurors do it, can't let the Muggles do it. Not much option but to let him do it."

"I know what I'm doing," James assured his mother, smiling faintly. "I told you, I can handle this. It's not as big a deal as I probably made it sound."

"No, it's just plain creepy." Sirius leaned forward on his elbows and faced Mrs. Potter, giving her a flat stare. "Someone is definitely watching James' flat, we've made sure of that. They have also been inside, and know how to hide their tracks incredibly well. They're also a Muggle, probably female, if the perfume James smelled was anything to go by."

"See, we're fine. I'm fine, at least, Sirius is a bit of a wild card. I know what I'm doing," James repeated. Mrs. Potter gave the two of them doubtful looks, but didn't press the issue much further.

"As long as you know that I'm uncomfortable with this. I'll make sure your Dad's okay with it too." She laughed and grinned, and for a moment the familial resemblance between her and James was striking. "Actually, he'll probably want to help you."

James shook his head, waving his hands frenetically in vehement denial. "No. No, no, no. Dad stays out of my cases and I stay out of the Aurors'. That was the deal. He doesn't get that privilege anymore."

James loved his Dad dearly, and the two got on incredibly well, but jurisdiction was one of the problems that they both encountered having two 'officers' of the law in the same house. Charlie Potter was an Auror, and James was a detective, so the jurisdiction line was very, very slim. Charlie occasionally took control of James' cases, when James referred his client, but once or twice he'd taken control despite James' protestations of client choice and confidentiality.

"I'll keep him out of your hair, don't worry. Now, I'm going to start preparing a roast for dinner tonight, and I expect you both to stay for it. James, if you want to change the sheets in your room they're in the ironing cupboard. Sirius, I need you to run down to the shops and pick up some vegetables. The list is on the kitchen table. Thanks, sweetheart." Mrs. Potter stood up, stretching slightly before dragging Sirius along after her and waving James up the stairs. "We have company for dinner, so I expect good manners from both of you."

"What?" James froze. "Who? Do I know them? Do I have to talk to them?"

"Oh, honestly, Jamie. Just some colleagues from work, they won't kill you." Mrs. Potter looked up at him with exasperated fondness, her grip on Sirius' arm lightening enough for him to remove it from her grasp and make a few mocking poses at James. "Sirius, behave."

James stuck out his tongue at Sirius then sighed, resigning himself to the company. "Alright. Don't let Sirius near the knives."

"Hey!"

"I won't. Now go get your room ready, you're staying for at least two nights, understood?" Without waiting for a reply, Mrs. Potter removed herself to the kitchen, taking the tall annoying menace with her.

James ran through a list of his mother's friends at her work in his head while he sorted through the linen cupboard. Mrs. Potter was a Healer at the main wizarding hospital, St. Mungo's, so most – if not all – of her friends were Healers or nurses. A few were old friends, like Poppy Pomfrey, who Mrs. Potter had supervised for five years before Poppy became a certified Healer. Others were dire enemies, such as Katerina Smith, who Mrs. Potter adored and James despised.

It wouldn't be more than four other guests, or his mother would be preparing something much more extravagant than a roast dinner. The guests would be set to arrive at six or six thirty, with dinner at seven, knowing his parents. His dad would get back from work at six, just in time to get an earful from his mum before the guests started arriving. James knew the routine. His parents had many friends and enjoyed catching up with them when they were in town.

Probably two old friends and two new, he thought idly as he stacked duvet covers and pillow cases into his arms. Mrs. Potter liked to have new experiences, so she often combined guests who didn't know each other very well to see who would hit it off. It was usually a success, but it sometimes proved for the most spectacular failures in communication that James had ever seen. He'd learnt all he knew about personalities from his mother's dinner parties.

"Hey, hurry up, would you?" Sirius said, poking his head in just as James was stuffing his old pillow into a clean, red case. "The groceries aren't going to carry themselves."

"I am not an owl," James said belligerently, but hurried up regardless and was soon out the door, carrying a few 'Go Green!' bags that his mother had stacked by the front door. The nearest Tesco's was a block and a half away, but knowing Sirius they'd almost certainly end up with more groceries than they needed.

"Right, so I was thinking – "

"Don't strain yourself there," James butted in before dodging the expected swat.

"I was thinking, we should get some kind of camera to put on your flat while you're away." Sirius tapped the side of his head. "Enspell it magically so that a Muggle won't notice it, and then put it somewhere that can see the entire front room. You know, just in case that thief breaks in again."

"She won't," James said slowly, mulling it over in his mind. "I think she went in as surveillance, not to actually steal anything. Why she took a bottle lid I still can't figure out, though. It doesn't make sense."

"Some thieves do it for the thrill," Sirius replied, opening the gate and starting down the pavement. "I should know. I get paid for it."

"I don't know..."

The rest of the walk was spent consulting Mrs. Potter's shopping list and making the necessary adjustments. These included a lot more sugar, emergency chocolate, and more potatoes.

"Who do you think it'll be this time?" Sirius asked as he flicked through a few magazines while waiting at the check-out. "Poppy and Alvin? They're usually the first on the guest list. Or Mireille, but I think she went back to Normandy to visit her grand-daughter."

"Probably," James agreed vaguely. "I don't know. Either way, probably the same old people. Mum's friends from the hospital aren't usually that interesting."

Suffice it to say, James had never been so wrong in his life.

**A/N: This was supposed to be posted two weeks ago. Forgive me. Exams happened. Hope you enjoyed it, though! As is obvious, I'm playing fast and loose with canon, timelines and characters, so don't worry if you think a character shouldn't be present, because chances are, they probably shouldn't. Feel free to drop me a rant, I'm curious as to your first impressions; and to those who already did, thank you!**

**I clearly do not own anything by J. K. Rowling, the wonderful authoress she is, and I am only writing this for my own entertainment.**

**- Bronwyn**


	3. An Unexpected Party

**Chapter Three: An Unexpected Party**

James, despite having a rather lonesome job, enjoyed company. He was a people person, he _liked _talking and laughing and meeting new people. This charismatic streak definitely came from his mother, but his knack of instantly becoming best friends with someone was definitely from his father. When he wanted, he could get along with anyone, but it was entirely his own choice. There were a few people who he absolutely refused to even look in the eye: some of his old schoolmates, for example, he would rather hex than look at.

Sirius, James had noticed, was similar. He preferred meeting new people to spending lots of time with old friends, which was why he was always travelling and rarely spent long periods in England. However, Sirius was also very quick to make impressions of people, and if he didn't like someone – _they knew._

"Potatoes?"

"Yep."

"Pumpkin?"

"Yep."

"Sweet potatoes?"

"Yep."

"Carrots?"

"Yep."

"Beans?"

"Um…no." James looked around, searching among the plates and dishes for the tray of green beans. "No, she must still be cooking them."

"Mum!" Sirius yelled. "Are you still cooking the beans?"

Mrs. Potter stuck her head out of the kitchen. "No, I gave them to you to put on the table. Where are they?"

James and Sirius both gave her identical guilty looks, before splitting up to search among the dishes again. James eventually spotted it lurking on the sideboard, no doubt having been placed down by Sirius for one reason or another. "Okay, got them. So, what next?"

Sirius looked down at the list on his hand. "Just the tomatoes."

"They're being cooked with the beef." James checked his watch and grinned. "Alright, Dad's going to be home soon. Make sure he doesn't eat anything, I'm going to get changed."

"Yeah, you stink," said Sirius amicably, as James wandered upstairs to find a clean shirt.

Three shirts later, James wandered back down to find Charlie Potter trying to steal roasted carrots and Sirius chasing him with a spatula. They were only disrupted by a ring of the doorbell, and a voice calling, "Dora, I brought dessert!"

Mrs. Potter bustled out of the kitchen, neatly intercepted Sirius, stole his spatula, and slapped Mr. Potter on the hand. "Stay away from my vegetables. Jamie, go let Poppy in, would you?"

James nodded and opened the door to Poppy Pomfrey.

Poppy Pomfrey was a kindly looking woman in her mid-thirties. Her light brown hair was cropped short, framing her brown eyes and mostly hidden by her hat, and she was wearing slacks and a red blouse. She proffered a covered tray the second the door opened. "Tiramisu," was her only comment.

James took it, grinning like a madman. "Thanks, Madam Pomfrey!"

"Don't give me that," she said, but there was no anger in her tone. "Now, let me go and help Dora finish making dinner – chances are she's got enough on her plate already."

James stood back and let her through, peeking under the cover of the tray and sniffing the dessert underneath. Madam Pomfrey's tiramisu was renowned.

He was just turning away from the door when he heard the front gate swing open and shut again. He turned to see a pretty woman with red hair come down the front path, holding a down-sized picnic basket under one arm and the strap of her handbag in the other. She looked about his age, perhaps younger, and he assumed that she must be his mother's new apprentice/subordinate/mini Healer.

"Lily!"

He dodged Mrs. Potter expertly as she hurried out of the door, stepping back and slipping inside again. There would be no point standing between her and 'Lily', so he may as well wait until he was introduced.

He meandered back to the kitchen, carefully placing the tiramisu in the fridge after checking for cheese at the bottom. Having ascertained that, in fact, there was nothing but layers of heavenly goodness, he was dragged back out by his mother to socialise with her guests.

"Lily, these are my sons, James and Sirius," said Mrs. Potter, gesturing to the duo. "One by blood and one by choice. Boys, this is Lily Evans, the new junior Healer in my ward."

"Hi," Lily said. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise." James stuck his hand out. "James Potter, the one by blood."

She smiled politely and shook his hand, perfectly composed. Her grip was lost as Sirius butted him out of the way and replaced James' hand with his own.

"Pleasure to meet you, Lily," he said, somehow managing to sound vaguely civilised while shoving James out of the way. "I'm Sirius Black, I believe we've met before."

Lily pulled a face and withdrew her hand. "Oh, yes. You were the one who managed to tear half your arm off, weren't you? Honestly, what were you doing?"

"Breaking into tombs," he said breezily. After a swift glare from James he stepped back, giving him a slightly teasing grin in return. "Not nearly as interesting as it sounds, except when it is."

"So, please tell me you brought more food in that lovely basket of yours," James said, cutting Sirius off and deflecting the subject. He glanced towards the picnic basket, taking in the stereotypical red chequered tablecloth and the way the wooden weave had recently been polished. She _had _put in effort.

"Mrs. Potter said I could bring dessert, if I had to bring something," Lily looked down at the basket and opened one of the flaps. It revealed a tin of what James presumed were biscuits, and a foil covered bowl. "It's homemade cream," she said at Sirius' inquiring look.

"Yum."

Suddenly Mrs. Potter bustled in and shooed the two off back towards the front door. "Go and wait for the others; Lily, let me show you to the kitchen so we can put your things in the fridge."

"Who am I looking for?"

"Whoever next shows up," said his mother helpfully, leading Lily into the kitchen and leaving James and Sirius up to their own devices.

James ruffled his hair and glanced at Sirius. "She actually seems alright," he said, wincing a little at the surprise he could hear in his own voice.

"We'll see," replied his friend with a shrug. "Come on, time to go be bouncers."

They sat on the gate waiting for whoever else Mrs. Potter had invited, Sirius lounging indolently and James leaning forward, swinging his legs. Strictly speaking the gate shouldn't have been able to support their combined weights, but a few discreet taps with Sirius' wand and it was twice as sturdy as it should have been. Or the two of them were lighter. Honestly, James hadn't been paying attention.

The next to arrive was Janine Pettigrew, a rather mousy Healer who was James' mother's friend at school. She and her family had moved west when Janine had married, though, and so James hadn't seen much of her. According to Mrs. Potter she had a son about James' age, but that stopped being a defining characteristic in a friendship when he was fifteen.

"James!" Mrs. Pettigrew clapped her hands and smiled widely, looking him up and down. Her light blond hair was neatly tied up out of her face, swinging around behind her with each move of her head. "My goodness, you _have _grown! Why, the last time I saw you, you couldn't have been knee high to a grasshopper!"

James grinned and hopped down, shoving Sirius off in a smooth movement. "Mrs. Pettigrew! I remember you! I didn't know you'd moved back to London, though."

"We moved back three months ago, when my husband got a job at the Ministry." She followed him through the gate and up the path to the house, nodding as he held the door open for him. "It's very different, though. Oh, Dora! Hello!"

James left the two of them there, exchanging hugs and talking fifty miles a minute. Sirius was back up on the front gate again, but hopped down once James reached him.

"Was that Janine Pettigrew?" he asked, and James nodded.

"Yeah, haven't seen her since I was five, though. Hasn't changed much."

Sirius shrugged noncommittally. "She seems alright. A bit like Mum, really. Is anyone else coming, or can we go in and steal the food?"

"I don't know, but I think Mum'll have invited one or two more people, judging by how much she cooked."

They waited out there for another five minutes, staring out at the street and mouthing off the weather, which while amusing was not particularly effective, and it came as a relief when the final guests appeared.

Marius and Elizabeth Prewett were a cheerful, merry couple that were fairly well known among Wizarding circles. Marius was an Auror, much like James' father, but specialised in theft and fraud rather than the more serious crimes, such as the Unforgivable Curses or blood laws. Elizabeth ran a bakery in the middle of Wizarding London, with a front room filled with fragrant buns and the most mouth-watering cakes James had ever laid eyes on, and had, according to gossip, passed on her cooking talents to her daughter. They were good friends of James' parents, and so James wasn't at all surprised to see them.

"James! Sirius!" Mr. Prewett smiled widely and spread his arms like a pleased uncle. "Nice to see you boys again. Being kept on gate duty?"

"Keeping an eye out for any stragglers," Sirius said with a smirk, before hopping down and opening the gate. Unfortunately for James, he was still on it, and had to do a little jig in order to stay balanced.

"Are we the last, then?" Mrs. Prewett asked. She was holding a basket close to her chest, which James knew would have to be some of her most recent baking experiments. There came a price with being friends with a cook, and one was that you ended up becoming a guinea pig for new recipes.

"I certainly hope so, I want to eat."

"Trust Sirius to think with his stomach." James nudged him in the ribs and ushered the Prewetts inside. "Come in, come in, Mum's waiting."

Sure enough, Mrs. Potter swept in not a second later, and the group quickly dissolved into greetings and small talk. James slipped effortlessly into the role of obedient servant, and shot around between the kitchen and dining room organising plates, seating and double checking to see that all the food was still alright.

He ended up sitting between Mrs. Pettigrew and Marius Prewett, as well as being directly opposite Lily Evans which was not a disappointment at all. It didn't take long before James, Lily and Mr. Prewett found themselves in a lively debate about the benefits of Transfiguration, which James found absolutely fascinating. The theory was equally as interesting as the practical in his mind, which Mr. Prewett happily disputed and Lily seemed a little bit surprised about.

"Oh, I absolutely agree with you," she said, nodding quickly. "It's only that I didn't peg you as the studious type. Not with all of the Quidditch trophies on the mantelpiece."

"It's a hobby, not a state of mind," he said. "I reckon I'd prefer Transfiguration to Quidditch, but the choice hasn't really popped up. Have you heard about the recent developments with Animagus Theory? Apparently they've discovered a way to determine what your form would be before going through with the magic."

"Yes, a friend of mine is working in the Magical Research and Development department," said Mr. Prewett. "It's very technical, very complicated magic. They're looking for a way to make it easier, but I think it should stay difficult. It dissuades people from trying to become Animagi."

James waved his hand dismissively. "It can't be that difficult. I bet you I could do it."

"It is that difficult," Lily said, giving him a doubtful look and refilling her water glass. "There have only been three successful Animagi in the last fifty years. It's a terribly tricky branch of magic."

"Is that a challenge?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. It's a statement of fact. Please don't."

James grinned wider, but hastily donned an expression of seriousness when she gave him a quelling look. Suddenly the contents of his plate were much more interesting, and he let Lily and Mr. Prewett continue talking as he cleared it.

"So, Lily, how are you finding being a Healer?" Mr. Prewett asked.

The redhead shrugged, twirling a carrot around with her fork. "It's alright. I really only went in for it because I had the marks, you know? I would have liked to do something bigger, something to actually help people directly, but this does save lives and Mrs. Potter is a fantastic mentor."

"Clever, then, are you?" James asked bluntly.

"Fairly." Lily shrugged again. She seemed to spend a lot of time doing that. "One of my best friends was a Potions prodigy, which certainly helped."

"Thinking of specialising?" Mr. Prewett nodded to Madam Pomfrey. "I know Madam Pomfrey originally wasn't very enthusiastic about Healing, but then she spent a term in the children's ward."

"Not yet. I might get a few more years under my belt before I start thinking about changing my direction. Right now I'm perfectly fine in Emergency."

"I remember when I was a kid I was on first name terms with more of the Accident and Emergency staff," James said, smiling reminiscently. "The usual childhood injuries; falling from brooms, down the stairs, running to fast. I remember thinking I really wanted to be like them for a while, but I never really had the interest while I was at school."

"Oh?" Lily leaned forward, still somehow managing not to put her elbows on the table. "So what do you do? I know your father's an Auror; are you, too?"

"I'm a private detective," he replied.

This was where Lily surprised him. Usually when he told people his profession, they would ask him to deduce something about them, upon which he would have to go into a lengthy explanation about why 'private detective' was not the same thing as 'Sherlock Holmes'. Lily just nodded, raised her eyebrows slightly in question, and asked, "Is it very interesting?"

"It's mostly finding stray pets," he admitted. "I'm the middle man for problems that are too trivial or non-magical for the Aurors, but can't be brought to the Muggle police."

"Have you had any grand cases?" Mr. Prewett asked. "By which I mean ones that really stand out from the rest."

"Still waiting for that one. It's why I spend so much time around Sirius. If he doesn't end up committing a crime of epic proportions, then no one will."

Lily laughed merrily. "I did get that impression. I think it was the leather jacket."

James shuddered and glanced towards said man and jacket. "Yes, that awful thing. You should see his motorbike. It's hell on wheels."

"You don't sound like you think that's a bad thing," Mr. Prewett observed.

"Of course it's not. It can fly." This was said with no small amount of pride, and James allowed his ego to inflate slightly, if that was at all possible. "We were bored during our last summer holidays at school and decided to practice our Charms."

Mr. Prewett let out an impressed whistle and Lily's eyes widened. "That's pretty decent spellwork for a pair of seventeen year olds. No one's tried to confiscate it?"

"Oh, please," James laughed, waving away the suggestion. "You know what the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office is like. No one would go to all that trouble of filling out form after form for some teenager's bike."

"Oh, yes." Lily sounded completely exasperated. "It has to be signed in triplicate, sent in, sent back, queried, lost, found, subjected to public enquiry, lost again, then finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as firelighters."

Mr. Prewett frowned in confusion, but James recognised it. "_The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy?_ I'm impressed. I've always wanted to memorise that bit, but I never got around to it."

Lily looked as though she wanted to be surprised, but couldn't find it in her. "Yes. How do you know it? I thought you were a pure-blood."

"A friend used to love it. He wouldn't stop listening to the radio show, so I picked up a bit," he said. "And I'm offended. Just because I'm a pure-blood doesn't mean I can't know about Muggle things."

Lily raised her hands pacifyingly. "I know, I know. It's just not something you'd expect from an old family, was all I meant."

"I take it you're a Muggleborn?" Mr. Prewett asked.

Lily nodded. "Yes, no magical blood in me. I'm a bit worried, to be honest. With the way that the politics in the Ministry is swinging I think some of the old prejudices might be coming back."

It was James' turn to be not-quite-surprised. "I would've thought that the Wizarding World as a whole would have moved past that stage."

Mr. Prewett shook his head. "You would be very surprised, James. Some of the older families, like the Blacks and the Lestranges, have had a very long history of being biased against those of 'less pure' blood." James could hear the quotation marks. "While the younger generations have moved past it, there are a lot of powerful figures in the Ministry and surrounding offices that still gold on to those old beliefs. The problem seems to have resurfaced. Lily, you would have noticed this. A lot of candidates for the more competitive posts, such as Aurors and Healers, are beginning to be given to people because of their background, regardless of whether or not they actually have that much skill in the area."

"I was one of the few lucky people who got a position, given that I haven't got magical ancestry," Lily said. "A lot of my friends who were Muggleborn or Half-blood didn't make it. It's brutal, it really is."

James sighed. "Yeah, I know. Sirius is one of those people who know all about this. He keeps up on the political scene of the Ministry the same way I watch the Quidditch scores. There's something hopelessly cyclic about Wizards and prejudice."

"That's a neat way of putting it," Mr. Prewett agreed. "What I'll consider the turning bar is when the phrase 'blood traitor' comes back. I realise this isn't something you say in polite conversation, but it really is a horrible term, even if just for its connotations."

"How is respecting Muggles supposed to be an insult?" Lily sighed, shaking her head. "Sometimes I really do think that Muggles have it better than Wizards."

"I think they have similar problems," James said. "I know they used to, definitely. Maybe the World Wars were their wake up call. Do you think that'll be what it takes for us Wizards to wisen up?"

"I hope not. But knowing Wizards, which I do," Mr. Prewett gave them a cynical smile, "it might just have to be."

**A/N: Thank you, once again, for whatever contribution you made! Even if you just read this because you were bored and it was late, I hoped you enjoyed it and continue to read. Also, I realise that Lily's character is a volatile subject. I'll try not to Sue-ify her or make her too 'stick-in-the-mud', but for what it's worth, there are some aspects to her that founded these portrayals. We shall see. Thank you all!**

**- Bronwyn**


	4. Princess Jasmine

**Chapter Four: Princess Jasmine**

The next day turned out to be the epitome of an English summer. Clear skies, light but chilly breezes and warm temperatures welcomed James back when he left the Potter's house, and he stopped for a minute to smell the roses. Except the roses were his mother's small jasmines, and the minute was closer to five.

He recognised the scent; it as the same as that which had been left in his apartment, only far stronger and not adulterated by the myriad of other factors. It was purer, too. The smell which had lingered in his flat had been changed slightly, no doubt due to its presence in a perfume.

Sirius had buggered off to go and do something, which under normal circumstances James would assume to be work related, but Sirius had the week off. James would have liked his help, as an extra set of hands was always useful, but he didn't begrudge him his free time. After all, the man did have other friends and a life outside of occasionally helping James with investigations and eating Mrs. Potter's food.

He discreetly took out his wand and glanced around, making sure that no one was watching. While this was a town known for its high proportion of magical inhabitants, James didn't want to accidentally give a Muggle a heart attack. Thankfully, the street was deserted, so with a quick step and spin, James apparated into his apartment.

It, too, was empty. No jasmine perfume hung in the air, no objects had been moved, and the spells which he and Sirius had placed remained intact. No one had been there in the time he was away.

It was a Saturday, which meant that there was a chance that a client would turn up. If it weren't for this, James would have taken the day off to try to investigate further, but business was important and sometimes working on something different kicked his brain into gear. Parallels turned up with startling frequency, something which he never failed to take advantage of.

Strictly speaking, he didn't open until nine, so he still had forty-five minutes before he had to be present. First things first: restock his emergency chocolate supply.

Priorities.

The chocolate store that was on the same street as the fish and chip shop was his preferred venue of choice. It wasn't ridiculously overpriced, but the chocolate was still of high enough quality to merit the shop being called a 'chocolatier'. At least it wasn't pretentious enough to call itself a chocolaterie.

He pushed open the door with a little more swagger than he was currently feeling, but the presence of enough sugar to keep him awake for seventy-two hours – at minimum – restored his spirits. Coffee may be a faster fix, but chocolate tasted better.

He trawled around the small interior, staring at the different types of chocolate lining the walls. His favourite were Jazzies, as they provided ridiculously high amounts of sugar without actually having that much chocolate. Jazzies were coin shaped pieces of chocolate covered with hundreds and thousands, small enough to eat in one bite but containing enough calories to make that one bite a really bad idea unless there was urgent need for an energy boost.

He bought a bag of these, and debated whether or not to buy some chocolate for his mother. He probably should, considering he would be seeing her more often anyway, so he searched among the shelves until finding a stack of Terry's Chocolate Oranges. He took a dark and a milk one, as well as a bag of the shop's own chocolate, before wandering back up to the counter.

"That'll be seven pounds sixty," said the cashier, who was clearly new judging by her nervousness, and the fact that she didn't recognise James.

"How long've you been working here?" he asked, trying to put the girl at ease.

"Four days," she said with a bashful grin. "They were hiring and a friend recommended it to me."

James nodded and took the brown paper bag she offered him. "Not surprised. It's a good place, this one. You're studying up at Brunel?"

She nodded, which was the expected response. A lot of the college students from that university lived or took jobs around here. "Law student."

"And working in a chocolate shop." He laughed and nodded in farewell. "Nice to meet you."

"You too."

He checked his watch and noticed he still had a good half hour, so he ducked into the bookshop to see if they had anything on sale. There was also a back room, which James knew for a fact contained books for the magical community. The bookshop was run by a wizard, after all.

The shop was deserted, and the bell rang loud in the silence. James brushed it off; whoever was meant to be minding the store was probably in a back room or upstairs, or perhaps taking a quick break.

He glanced along the shelves, eyeing the Muggle literature with wary curiousity. He had read a few Muggle books in his life, but he preferred to stick with Wizarding ones. Muggle problems could all be solved with a few little spells, and reading about them only served to remind him of the difference between the two peoples.

He slipped into the back room, which was hidden with a spell similar to that hiding the Leaky Cauldron, the famous pub that hid the way into Diagon Alley. The books in here were often directly useful, even enlightening. He didn't particularly enjoy reading, but some of the non-fiction books shed light on the most intriguing of subjects, like blood laws, old ways of thinking and previous regimes. Other than current affairs, law books and the odd book on politics, James preferred to stick to his magazines. However, magazines weren't going to provide him with the knowledge to impress Lily Evans, so it was time to deal with more serious material.

He spotted an interesting book on the top shelf and tried to reach it, cursing his lack of height. With a sigh, he was about to take out his want to levitate the bloody thing down before a head appeared up the top of the bookshelf.

"Can I help you?" it asked, and James started in surprise. Although it was difficult to see, it looked as though there was a man lying along the top of the shelf. All James could really see from his position was his head, shoulders and, after looking along, a foot poking out further along the shelf.

"Yes, thanks," he said, recovering quickly. "The...eighth book along from this end, could you toss it down?"

The man reached over and counted along, pulling out the green backed book and showing it to James. "This one?"

He adjusted his glasses and peered up at it. It was titled _Magical Laws Regarding Blood Purity, _by Marius Black. He was tempted to show it to Sirius to see his reaction, but knew the only thing that would happen would be a harshly spoken 'incendio'. "That's the one."

The man glanced at the title, wrinkled his nose, then held it out to James. "Enjoy your reading," he said, but his tone was coloured with doubt.

"Unlikely," James replied. "I can't think of something that is going to be filled with more pureblood propaganda than this."

The man chuckled. "Give me a second, I'll come down."

James, curious to see how the strange man intended to do this, made his way around to the other side of the shelf. To his disappointment, it was nothing more mundane than a ladder, which the man swung over and climbed down on.

"Couldn't make it any more interesting for your audience?" he teased, looking him up and down. He was taller than James by an easy three inches, with brown hair and murky green eyes. He was also quite thin, which coming from James was practically a professional opinion, and wearing old jeans, a vest that was clearly second hand, and a white shirt.

The man rolled his eyes, before looking at the book James was holding again. "Ah, Marius Black. That one isn't quite as filled with propaganda as you may think. I've read some of his work, and for a pureblood supremacist he isn't as much of a prat as you'd think."

"What, no long winded rants on how inferior Muggleborns are, and what an abomination it is to be a proper half-blood? I'm disappointed. There goes my weekend reading."

The man grinned, which made him look a lot younger than he appeared. "It's quite tasteful, I'm afraid. Just a light commentary on the legal system. Registration, purification, education. All the good stuff. He was a squib, so he knew what he was talking about."

"James Potter," James introduced, sticking the book under his arm and offering his hand.

"Remus Lupin." Remus shook his hand but dropped it quickly.

"So, any other books you can recommend to me?" he asked, flipping through _Magical Laws. _"Might need something to take my mind off this one, you know?"

Remus nodded and wandered over to another shelf. Trailing his fingers along the spines, he plucked a colourful book out and offered it to James. "_The Paradox of Freedom, _by Teresa Prewett. It's fascinating, but deals with a lot of psychology and traditionalism."

James took it and flicked through. He'd met Teresa once or twice when he was little, as she was Marius Prewett's sister. She'd seemed like a decent person, so her ideas would probably be more palatable than those of a Black. "Alright. A bit wordy, but I'll manage."

"She's expressive enough that her thoughts come across very cleanly," Remus assured, swinging around to look through another bookshelf's worth of books. "There's a good dissertation written by Albus Dumbledore that I might be able to dig up for you as well, which looks at the origins of the blood laws and how they are no longer applicable to the same situations. What was it called..."

"_Origin and Originality: A Thesis on the Blood Law Act and its Consequences_," James replied, recognising the description.

Remus glanced at him over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "You have done your research. You've read it, then?"

"My father insisted I do so when I was fifteen," James admitted. "Said I needed to understand the way that the Wizarding world was changing."

"He sounds like a clever man," the brunette replied, turning to fully lean on the shelf. "Are you a specialist in the subject or are you just interested? I don't often see people dealing with this subject."

"Curiousity from a dinner party conversation," James said, shifting the books to a more comfortable position. "We were talking about current affairs and I decided to brush up on my knowledge."

Remus looked at him thoughtfully for a second before smiling triumphantly. "You're trying to impress someone, aren't you?"

James could feel his jaw dropping. This guy was _perceptive, _and James was fairly certain he hadn't said anything about trying to impress. "What gave it away?" he asked after getting his jaw under control again. Thinking back on their conversation, he tried to make the connections. His family name was well known, so he was obviously a pureblood. He hadn't heard of Marius Black, which showed he was probably very liberal in his beliefs, helped by his recognition of Teresa Prewett. By process of elimination, this ruled out him being a specialist in the subject or even someone who had been reading about it for a while. The dinner conversation remark had probably cemented the idea that he was trying to impress someone, as it implied meeting new people and what better way to make a good impression than show how clever you were?

Apparently this train of thought had been entirely useless, as Remus just shrugged and replied, "You just have that kind of air around you."

James sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, well, I've got a feeling it's going to be more applicable soon, other than impressing people."

Remus shrugged again. "You never know. People change, and with more and more people with Muggle sympathies and less pureblood fanatics, there might be a bit more hope for a change."

"Fingers crossed," he said flippantly, before straightening and holding the books up. "I've got to get going, how much are these going to be?"

Remus took them and wandered over to the cash register. "Three galleons and six sickles," he said, ducking down under the counter, presumably to look for a bag to put the books in.

James dug out his second wallet and placed the coins on the counter, taking the now bagged books in exchange. "Will you be working here for a while?"

Remus shrugged. The constant repetition of the manoeuvre made James think of Lily. "I don't know; hopefully. I tend to mess up a lot of jobs."

"I'll stop by for a chat again, then." James left the shop with a wide smile and a jaunty wave, both which Remus returned with some trepidation.

James dropped his chocolate into the bookshop bag and slung it over his shoulder, hurrying back to his apartment. He hastily tidied up a little so it appeared more professional, put the books away and the chocolate in the fridge.

Unlike most detectives, James didn't have an office. He received clients in his front room, as it often served to set them more at ease and make him seem more trustworthy. Working in offices gave off the feeling that it _was _just a job, and that the detective didn't really sympathise with the client's problems. Having clients come to his home showed them that he trusted them, that their troubles were his, and it also showed them the type of person he was.

Of course, it was a bit weird constantly having strangers in his personal space, but it was only the front room. He'd had worse. Hell, he'd been in a dormitory with Sirius for seven years.

He amused himself by hypothesising about his own burglar while he waited for someone to show up. Saturdays had a higher rate of customers, so he wasn't entirely despondent about spending the entire day doing what was essentially absolutely nothing.

At about eleven o'clock there came a knock on the door, and it opened to reveal a man in his mid-forties, with greying hair and a rather rotund build. He remained at the threshold, but noticed James stand up and asked, "Would you be James Potter, the detective?"

James nodded, coming forward and shaking the man's hand. "Yes, I am. Please, come in."

He ushered the man inside to sit on the armchair and took a seat on the sofa. "How can I help you?"

"My name is Jack O'Donnell," the man started. "My wife Clara was a witch, but I haven't got any magic. She...she was murdered a few weeks ago."

"I'm so sorry," James said, wincing. "My condolences."

Mr. O'Donnell gave him a smile. "Thank you. The police ruled it as homicide by poisoning, but were unable to trace the murderer."

"You think it's a wizard?"

He nodded. "Yes. Clara wasn't a paranoid person, but she did ward the house against intruders. That ward didn't go off."

James leaned forward. "How did it happen, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Not at all. It was very simple. She was dining one night when she simply collapsed. There were traces of poison – arsenic – in her wine glass. I don't drink wine, but my wife does, and whoever poisoned her knew that. I was proven innocent by the police because I wasn't there at the time and there was no poison in the wine bottle, so there was no way I could have done it. However, I suspect that someone visited her that night, a witch or wizard, who knew Clara. They could have disabled the wards, knocked on the door, and Clara would have let them in. I don't know how they would have put the arsenic in her glass, but they did it somehow and this was the end result."

"If you think it was a wizard then why didn't they just use a spell?" James asked, partially to himself and partially to Mr. O'Donnell.

"I don't know."

James leaned back again and nodded, thinking deeply. He already had a few hypotheses running around his mind, but without further evidence he wouldn't be able to find one, definitive answer. "I'll help you. I'll try to find out who did this, and why, but I can't promise you anything."

Mr. O'Donnell sagged in relief. "Oh, thank you, thank you. I had no idea who I could turn to."

"How did you know to come to me?"

"I asked one of Clara's friends, she told me about you. A friend of a friend."

"May I visit your house at some point next week? I would like to take a look around where it happened and see if there is anything left over that I can work with."

Mr. O'Donnell nodded and wrote down his address. "This is where I live. Might I ask what your fees are?"

"They depend entirely on results," James assured him. "If I search around for a month and find nothing, there will be a small compensation for time but nothing else. My usual fees are £50 on the first day, then another £75 for each lead I pursue. If I say that I have a lead and you do not agree that it's worthwhile, you don't have to pay me. I'll still investigate, and tell you whether or not I find anything. If I do, and you want that information, then you'll have to pay the fee you would have if you thought that lead was worthwhile. If I solve the case, then there will be an additional fee of £500."

Mr. O'Donnell nodded. "You don't ask for much money. All of the other non-magical private investigators ask for a lot more."

"I have more resources at my disposal, as well as magic, so it seems a little unfair to demand the same price," James explained. "They need payment for services like tracking, analysing and testing. I don't. Expenses fees may also crop up, but I promise they won't be more than the fee of a ride on the Tube."

Mr. O'Donnell frowned, thinking this over. James knew his methods were unique and his fees strange, but they made sense and worked a lot better considering the rate at which he dealt with his cases. "That sounds fair. Is there a consultancy fee?"

"No. I haven't done anything other than listen to your explanation, you can't pay me for that." James smiled. "I'll do my best to find out what happened to your wife, Mr. O'Donnell. You can have faith in me."

The man smiled back and stood up. "Thank you very much, Mr. Potter. I'm sure you'll find something that the police couldn't." He went to leave, but stopped and turned around as if in an afterthought. "Oh, and one more thing. This was left on the kitchen table, and it wasn't Clara's."

He handed James a handkerchief from his pocket. It was the standard size, with blue stitching around the edges and an initial in one corner; 'M'. There was a faint scent, too, so James raised it to his nose and sniffed it lightly.

The handkerchief fell to the floor.

It was the smell of jasmines.

**A/N: Back again! Hope you enjoyed this chapter (it has Remus, you'd better have) and if you didn't, tell me why! I haven't dropped this story, it's just taking ages to line up all the threads of the story, because ideas keep popping up and I'm trying to weave them all into something coherent. Thanks for the patience!**

**- Bronwyn**


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